Reinvention
by Stephy69
Summary: He was finally getting away. Away to somewhere noone knew him. He could pretend to be someone different. Someone who people liked, simply because of his personality. R


**A/n : I wanted to make life easier for the "kids" in this fic. I put the rise of Voldemort back a few years and so, instead of returning in the fourth year - he shall return the year they leave school. Capiche ? Also, I would like to point out that Draco sill STILL be a complete arsehole in this, even though he's trying to change. He's a Malfoy…he WON'T just miraculously decide to be a good guy.**

**Reinvention **

Draco lay back on the plush sofa; the sunlight streaming in directly through the window, causing the boy to use his hand as a shield form the sun. "Now why," he said, his impertinent tone still evident in his voice, although he was addressing his father. "Would you offer to do such a thing?" One eyebrow raised, he glared at his father - a man, not famed for his generosity nor his kind gestures, even if they were towards his son. Draco's glare became marginally softer; until it was a straight stare out between father and son, as he tried to decipher what was going through the elder Malfoy's mind. Lucius had, in short, just bought Draco the latest broomstick - the Nimbus Flash. Now broomsticks came at a cost and, in the Malfoy's case, this did not mean a cash payment. Draco was rarely given gifts of such high standards unless something was expected of him, and, considering how much the broomstick had cost, he knew that this expectation was high.

His father raised his hand in an almost noble gesture. "Do I need a reason to buy my son nice things?" he asked, his voice laced with the high standard of education and upbringing he had received as a child. "After all, your birthday is coming up in…" Lucius trailed off, it was sad to say he knew very little of his son. His birthday, favorite quidditch team and even food preferences meant very little to Lucius and he felt no need to know such things.

"It was three weeks ago," Draco said, his eyes diverting back to the day old issue of the Daily Prophet lying beside him on the sofa. "July seventh, although it wouldn't bother you whether it was July seventh, fourth or the twenty-fifth of bloody December." Draco pretended to be incredibly interested in the latest story about how a goblin had won over one thousand galleons in a lottery prize draw.

"Now Draco, don't use such grave tones. I know fine well when you're birthday is. I just…" Lucius paused for a mere second before beginning again, this time more confident and a tad louder. "But I'm not here to talk about your birthday. I thought now would be a good time to talk about you moving school. Of course it can wait till after dinner." He said curtly, and with that he walked from the living room and out into the hall, where Draco heard a distinct pop, signaling his father's apparition. What, in the name of Merlin's beard is that man talking about? Wondered Draco. It was never 'father' to him. Always Lucius or 'that man'. And right now, Draco was sure 'that man' had lost all of his marbles. You did **not** just change school. Not when it was the summer before your seventh and final year. And besides, where would he go? Not Durmstrang, that was for sure. Not now that Karkaroff was no longer headmaster; and they had began accepting Muggleborns. And most certainly not Beauxbatons - where they had a giant as a headmistress and all sorts of disgusting creatures roaming around the school like they owned it. No. Draco was certain he had heard his father wrong. There was no way he could move school. There was no school for him to move to.

Unless…no. Even Lucius wouldn't do that. There _was_ another school Draco could attend. Although it wasn't in the country. It wasn't even in Europe. It was in America - and from what Draco had read about it - had a terrible reputation. Mind you, he had only read a line or two. And, maybe a change of school would be good for him. He could reinvent himself. He could be someone different. Not just Lucius's son. Not just a future Death Eater. He could be…he could be liked. Draco felt a strange pain at that thought - deep down, that's all he wanted in life. A real friend. Sure, he had Blaise and Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, Flint and Pucey. All great people. But none were his friends. They were "acquaintances" or "minions". Never friends.

He sighed, closing his eyes in a fluid motion, his mind going almost one thousand miles an hour. He sighed once again, massaging his temples slowly. He'd have to speak to his mother and Lucius. Perhaps it would work out. Perhaps…

What happened in the hours following that little episode is pretty unknown to Draco. He slept. A rather restless and uncomfortable sleep - but he slept non the less. He had rather vivid dreams of being liked, at that school. The dreams showed him a different him. One who was friendly, who joked and smiled, and he was even sure he had a girlfriend in one of them. Lucius wanted nothing more to do with him in the dreams. Upon awaking, he felt rather deflated that Lucius was even still alive - let alone still admitting to be his fire.

Perhaps the resentment Draco felt towards his father was the result in almost seventeen years of having a life which had been planned, seventeen years in which he was always told how to behave, how to act, seventeen years of having to follow rules and regulations that he didn't believe - sure he believed in Muggleborns being lesser beings, but to kill them? Surely that was absurd, even in those lunatics Lucius and Bellatrix's eyes. But deep down, Draco was sure that, had he not caught his father in bed with his mother's sister, that he would not have hated him quite so much. He highly suspected that this was the reason he was being sent to this strange school. It happened in the Christmas holidays of his sixth year; the Malfoy's were having their annual Christmas ball and everyone who was anyone was there. Draco, sick of being pestered by the Parkinson family, had decided to go lie down - Firewhiskey did not agree with him. He decided against going to his own room, he knew Pansy would only check there. He also knew, that Pansy would never dream of going into Narcissa and Lucius's room and so, seeing this as his best option, he slowly pushed open the door. The whiskey rushing to his head, his vision was slightly blurry - but he could still see two figures in the bed. Not sure whether he was hallucinating or not - it was known to happen with Fire whiskey - he stood still, trying to focus. He could see someone who resembled his aunt Bellatrix but from what he could remember, his Uncle Rodolphus did **not** have blond hair. Stumbling into the bathroom, his thoughts became clear…his father had been sleeping with his aunt. A rather sobering thought, if you will.

Of course, Lucius had seen him, but it would have been rather strange, even for a Malfoy, to remove his son from one school halfway through the school year and place him into another. And so he waited. He waited until the summer arrived. He had already secured a place for Draco in his desired school. Oakville Harbor. A strange name, for a wizarding school but Lucius reasoned that they were American and they always did such strange things. Hopefully; their "strangeness" would not rub off on Draco for he doubted that he would be much help to the Dark Lord if he were "slightly loopy" although Bellatrix was more than _slightly_ loopy, and she was practically his right hand woman.

Draco stood in his room, staring at himself in the mirror - he wasn't a vain boy, he was just a rather big fan of himself. Running a hand through his blond hair, he left it looking rather disheveled and judging by the small smirk on his face, he seemed to like that look. He had taken a particularly long time to get ready for dinner that evening, running through his head his plan. He would protest for around five maybe six minutes, about how he wouldn't leave Hogwarts, _then _just before Lucius lost it - as he so often did - he would "admit defeat". Pretending that, as long as his father wanted him to move, he would. He had played the good son card so many times, it had long since grown old for him, but his parents fell for it each and every time.

"Draaaaacooooo!" he heard a piercing shrill call from downstairs, from the first floor. It had always amazed him how loud his mothers calls were considering his bedroom was on the fourth floor and the dining room was on the ground floor. He waited for a moment, adjusting the collar on his shirt once more before deciding it was best not to keep them waiting. Not tonight.

After twenty minutes of house elves filling the table with food and attending to the family's every whim the table was set, the three Malfoy's sitting in silence. Until Lucius tapped his fork loudly on his plate. He knew it was rude and rather impolite but he could find no other way to get the attention of his son who was staring at himself in a gold goblet. "Now Draco, I think we should talk about your education." He said in a rather matter of fact tone.

Draco, who knew it was best not to act any differently than the way he usually would, continued to stare into the goblet. "God I need a tan…" he muttered, mentally noting that, being so pale, he would never fit in with the perma-tanned Americans. "So…what about it?" he looked up, his grey eyes narrowed slightly. Everyone who knew him was under the pretence that he enjoyed being at Hogwarts. Enjoyed having his Godfather everywhere he turned. Enjoyed not being able to do whatever he wished…

"Lucius, now's not the time. Leave it till afterwards," said Narcissa pleadingly, as she slowly rotated her spoon in her bowl of soup. Draco knew she didn't want him to go - it was quite sweet really, his mother wanting to keep him so close and, had it not been for Lucius, he would have stayed. But that man irritated him far too much to stay that close for another year. A conclusion he had come to while styling his hair that evening.

"No, Cissy. Now's as good as ever." Lucius placed his fork down on the empty plate, before linking his pale hands together. Draco watched him, an eyebrow raised. He seemed to be contemplating how to say the next line or two. "Draco, we, that is, your mother and I, feel that Hogwarts is not enough for you. That perhaps, you would excel much more at another school. One who's values were much like our own. Much more….much purer."

Draco rolled his eyes, he should have known that Lucius would play the "you're a pure blood" card. His thoughts drowned his father out for a moment, it had only occurred to him that his whole life was like a card game. He smirked slightly, his raised eyebrow lowering. "You want me to go to Oakville?" he said slowly.

"That was the intended plan." said Narcissa softly, before reaching out to touch her son's hand. "But if you don't want to go honey, you don't have to. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"ENOUGH woman!" called Lucius from the other end of the table. "Stop treating him like a child. I've had enough of this. Draco, there is no option. You WILL attend Oakville." Lucius's face was contorted into a most vicious snarl - one which Draco had only ever seen once, when he had come face to face with Potter.

Potter.

Another reason to go to Oakville. There were no have a go heroes there. No one who felt somehow superior because of a stupid lightning bolt shaped scar on their forehead. No. It would be quite the opposite. Yes. Oakville was quite for him.

Pushing his plate out from in front of him, he smirked. "Ok." He said simply, looking from his mother to his father, going against everything he had planned - mainly because he was scared Lucius would physically hurt Narcissa and **that** would not have been stood for. "I'll go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not quite so hungry anymore." Pushing his chair back, he stood up before retreating to his bedroom. The house elves would make him something to eat, later.

School started in merely four days. And he hadn't packed a thing yet. That's how he would busy himself tonight. Of course, he had no robes. No books. Nothing which would fit in at Oakville. Everything was specific to Hogwarts from his Slytherin robes, to "Hogwarts: A History". Tomorrow, he would pack. After he had gone shopping.

Shopping. He thought. Possibly the worst thing in a history of….things. And with that thought, he knew he wasn't thinking straight. Although it was merely eight o'clock he threw himself onto his bed and closed his eyes. Dreams, for the minute anyway, were better than reality.

**A/N2 : Ok I am in DIRE need of a Beta. I am not infallible and I do make mistakes. So anybody looking to "Beta" my fics, IM : DarlingxDumas. Thats me.**


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